The Eightfold Path
by Unheard Flipper
Summary: Something has gone horribly wrong. While attempting to enter the Spirit World, Aang has now found trapped in a world of madness and dark ruinous powers. Now someone or something is forcing a confrontation. Will Aang prevail? Or will he fall to the dark machinations of laughing, thirsting Gods?
1. The Realm of Madness

**Avatar the Last Airbender:** _The Eightfold Path: Chapter 1: The Realm of Madness_

This was not the Spirit World.

Or at least no part of the Spirit World that Aang had ever been to. Although that did not count for much, considering he was still a novice when it came to acting as the bridge between the mortal realm and the realm that the spirits claimed as their own.

But still...

He knew enough to know that there was something fundamentally... _wrong_...about this place.

Although the Spirit World had an ambience of strangeness, of wonder and mystery, it felt natural to him. Which was strange in its own right... He was human after all. The Spirit World should have been a complete antithesis to him.

Yet the realm of the spirits felt... right. It felt, for the lack of a better term: normal. To him, it felt as though he had merely strolled into the home of an old friend, instead of actually crossing the boundaries between worlds.

But this place...

This place, this new realm that Aang had somehow stumbled into, disquieted him.

It set him on edge.

There was an atmosphere of pain and unending anguish. A feeling of malevolence, a feeling of ancient and violent hatreds.

Power too. Old power. Primordial. Aang could feel it. Raw. Wild. Uncontrollable. It hung in the air of this place, giving it a greasy, electrified texture that crackled with eldritch energy.

Aang was curious. He had been attempting to cross into the Spirit World, when, through some unknown means he had arrived here. He wondered if the same laws that governed the Spirit World governed this unknown realm as well

Aang threw out a fist, half expecting to see a blast of fire erupt from his clenched fist. Nothing happened.

He couldn't bend the air either. A quick twirl and thrust with his staff told him that much.

He waved his arm through the air, keeping it fluid and in motion. He tried to pull moisture from the air like Katara had taught him. Nothing formed at his finger tips.

He took a stance and thrust up with his palm. Nothing moved.

Like Spirit World the bending arts held no sway in this realm. But that was where the similarities ended.

For where the Spirit World had been... stable, for lack of a better term, this place was a constantly shifting myriad of colours and formless, shapeless, which continuously twisted and turned in the raw, clashing colours that seemed to be the only thing that formed this new world. It was beyond definition, beyond any description that his mind could offer. His eyes hurt just to look at the sheer impossibility that spread itself out before him.

"Well." Aang said to himself, as gripped his staff tighter in his hand. "Best get moving. Maybe I could find someone, or something that could help me get out of here."

With that Aang took a step and began to walk. At least that is what he thought he was doing. There was nothing to indicate that he was moving at all, but he kept walking regardless. Above him, below him, all around him, the colours and shapes, the bleeding reality of this new world shifted in its ever changing way.

He felt a cold shiver, as a new thought, a new doubt crossed into his mind. _What if I can't get out? What if I'm trapped here forever?_

Panic raced through him, and before he could suppress it, before he could calm himself something moved. In the swirling depths of this... this... this _chaos_, something shifted.

A definite form; in a sea of shapeless swirling colours.

Aang couldn't describe it. It was as though his mind and his eyes refused to comprehend the image of what he was seeing.

Yet he couldn't look away.

His breath caught in his chest

His blood froze in his veins.

His eye lids refused to close.

His hands refused to budge from where they clamped at his sides. Refusing to shield him from the... sheer _wrongness_ that existed before him.

Tears of pain formed and streamed from the corners of Aang's eyes. Blood, bright and crimson dripped from his nose, his heart, pounded in his chest and his mouth opened in soundless scream.

He couldn't move. Couldn't breath. Couldn't think.

All he could do was focus on the horror that was forming before him.

Malicious, evil laughter, sent chills down his spine and froze the very marrow in his bones. He couldn't look away, he stared into the very abyss as an eight clawed appendage reached towards him, while several gapping maws, filled nothing but long needle teeth opened wide to swallow him whole.

Suddenly, it was over. Aang's body was released from whatever it had been that had rendered him immobile. He doubled over, panting in pain and fear.

"What in all the heavens was that?" Aang asked himself, as he panted, and tried to calm his racing mind.

He needed to be calm. He needed to be serine. Phlegmatic.

Aang stood up straight. He was the Avatar. A fully realised Avatar. He had nothing to fear. Quieting his still raising heart, he adopted an expression of calm indifference much like he had when Aang had faced the spirit known as Koh.

With determination flooding his veins, drowning out the fear or terror, or whatever it had been that had caused him to seize up. He picked up his staff from where he had dropped it and stated moving forward.

Aang walked, and walked and walked. He did not know how long he had been walking for, nor did he know if he was making progress. There was nothing to indicate that he was getting anywhere at all. The surroundings continued to explode, and implode; reform and break apart again in no describable pattern.

He pushed on never the less. There was no other choice but to continue. He had no idea of how he had come to this place and he had no thoughts on how to escape it. But something was telling him to keep moving. Whether it a memory from one of his past lives or the imagined voices of his friends telling him to keep pushing onward, he did not know. Nor did he care, it was good advice.

It would help him get out of this...

He didn't know what to call it.

"Never mind that." He told himself, "Naming this place won't help you out. Just keep moving forward Aang, just keep moving forward."

That was when the whispers started. At first Aang strained to hear them, but they were always too faint to make out. He could just barely make out a word, maybe two at the most, before they faded away into the chaos of the realm.

He could feel his temper fraying; he could feel his choleric rising with each dry hiss of the ceaseless whispers, always just out of earshot.

Aang calmed himself. Breathing exercises, mediation. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

The whispers did not cease.

Instead they increased number. Dry hissing whispers, never stopping and always the words were indiscernible. He did his best to ignore them, focusing on closing his mind to the outside world and seeking inner peace. Just as the monks had taught him, all those years ago.

It was only partly successful.

He growled under his breath, as the colours all around him continued their never ceasing transformations. "Just shut up."

And for the briefest of instances, Aang could swear that he saw a pair of eyes, just in front of him.

Even though it had been just for a fleeting moment that Aang had stared into those thing's eyes, he felt his chest tighten with fear.

Aang knew animal eyes. He was good with animals; it was something that he prided himself on.

These were like no eyes that he had ever seen. The pupils were thin, black slits in the middle of a pair of yellow, hellish glowing eyes that were alight with malicious hunger and inhuman cruelty.

And just like that, they vanished into the swirling chaos.

He had to calm himself. He had to be phlegmatic. Placid. This place seemed to react to his emotion; to his state of mind. He had to remain calm and keep moving forward.

Aang continued to walk, he kept a leisurely pace that he could maintain for a good long while, but not indefinitely, he would eventually tire, get hungry, or thirsty. He would be forced to stop sometime.

He kept his bearing calm, albeit it was difficult. The whispers had returned, but unlike before where he could not make out any of the words that they hissed, he now could hear them plain as day.

_Mark the Eight._

Over and over and over again the whispered the exact same three words, in their dry hissing whisper.

_Mark the Eight._

He could feel his anger bubbling just below the surface, dammed behind a wall of calm. But just barely.

_Mark the Eight_

It took everything that Aang had not to lash out. To strike at whatever it was that hissing out that infernal whispering. He wanted them to be silent, so that he could concentrate on getting out of this trap.

_Mark the Eight_.

Finally Aang had enough, and his anger burst through his dam like rampaging platypus-bear.

_Mark the Eight_

"SHUT UP!" He struck out with his staff hoping to catch one the whisper's with his attack.

In that moment, when his rage had broken through, when Aang's calm facade had been burned away in single angry outburst. Reality, or what counted as reality in this place, blinked and shifted.

* * *

I always wanted to write a fic where Aang gets trapped in the Warp... So I did. How will he fair against the avatar's of the four Chaos Gods? Against the likes of Blood God Khorne and the Ever Scheming Tzeentch? Against Rotting Nurgle and Slaanesh the God of Pleasure and Pain?

Who do you think will be the Gods' Chosen Champions for these confrontations? Find out more in the next chapter!

And as always enjoy and drop a review! Seriously, a review is crack for a writer.


	2. The Lord of Blood, Lord of Skulls

_**The Eightfold Path:**__ Chapter: 2: The Lord of Blood, Lord of Skulls, The Fire That Consumes All_

Aang stood at the begining of a white stone path, wondering what just had happened.

A moment before, he had had been wandering, lost amid a myriad swirling colours in a world that had no shape, no form, before he had lost his temper. Now he found himself standing in a world made with structure. Made with form.

The sky, no longer shifting with countless colours and blobs of the indiscernible, was now a dark crimson. The path was made from rounded white, polished stone and brass. The stones had been laid into squares eight wide, eight deep, the with brass strips separating the squares from each other.

On either side of the white and brass path; lay two large lakes of a bubbling, viscous dark red fluid. At first Aang had thought the lakes were formed of lava. But there was no heat and closer inspection, he discovered, much to his horror, that the liquid in the lakes was not lava.

It was blood.

The lakes were filled with blood.

Leaping back in horror and disgust, he landed on the path and heard a sharp crack.

One the stones had splintered and cracked beneath his heel into a dozen tiny, white fragments. These stones where hollow.

That was strange.

Aang had never seen hollow stones before. He bent down to get a better look. It seemed silly to use hollow stones as a walkway; one wrong step or too much weight and this was the result.

He picked up one of the larger fragments from the broken shell. It was smooth, rounded and a bright white, almost as if it had been bleached.

It was like no rock that Aang had ever seen before. He twirled it between his fingers, getting a feel for it. He wondered how it had been formed where it had come from. Aang had not seen any formations of stone in this realm of nightmares, but this fragment felt familiar.

Eerily familiar.

With growing anxiety, Aang dropped the fragment and gripped the edge of the crack that his heel had made in the rock, and pulled. The stone came free from its resting place with minimal effort.

A soon as it came free, Aang dropped it in revulsion.

The stone was bone. The stone was a skull.

A _human_ skull.

The whole path had been paved with human skulls. Sixty-four in each square.

Aang was sick. This realm was nothing more than one twisted nightmare after another. He wanted out, he wanted to escape. He turned, hoping to flee back into the realm of shapeless colours. But as he took that first step backwards, a wall of flames, bones and blood erupted from the ground, blocking his retreat.

Leaping back, Aang watched as the wall grew and grew, until towered over him. Unassailable and intimidating. Flames bright and red erupted from the mouth of the giant skulls that were set as stones in the wall, while rivers of dark crimson dripped from the eye sockets.

Aang gulped, as he turned back around to face the skull paved path before him.

Aang sighed as he gingerly took his first step down that path. It was obvious that someone or something was forcing a meeting... or a confrontation. Aang wasn't sure which.

As he moved down the path, he felt something stirring inside of him. Something about this place... it made him... angry, furious. It was as though this place was feeding the fires of his own anger. As though the sheer degradation of the remains of the dead, the bones, skulls and lakes of blood were only adding fuel to his choler.

Aang breathed deep. He needed to relax. Getting angry was not going to solve anything. Practicing the meditation techniques that he had learned from the monks of the Air Nomads so long ago did help, but could still feel the spark of his anger burning inside him. He would have to ignore it for now and move on.

He moved at a good pace, keeping his attention away from lakes of boiling blood and away from the path of skulls. He kept his attention focused on an object that towered in the distance. The bone path seemed to be leading him towards it, but no matter how fast he moved, no matter how far he traveled, the object never seemed to grow closer.

He was also begining to notice something about the path. Every now and then, he would come to a square that was not made from human skulls. Instead it was made of brass. The square was decorated with an odd symbol. A black eight pointed star, with a blood red runic skull device right in the middle of the star.

It hurt his eyes just to meet the gaze of the rune and caused the spark anger to briefly flare up in his chest. Aang quickly averted his eyes to the device. But he still noticed that the square with the star appeared almost in a pattern. When he had passed eight of them, Aang decided that he would count the squares with skulls, until he reached the next eight pointed star, to see if there was a pattern.

Counting he found the next one. Sixty-four. Sixty-three squares filled with skulls and one with the star and rune.

Aang passed it, and started counting again.

_One, two, three_.

Again when Aang had counted to sixty-four he found that he had arrived at the square with the star and rune.

_Sixty-four_.

Sixty-four squares. Each square was eight skulls wide and eight long.

_Sixty-four_.

There was something about that number. Aang pushed it from his mind. If the number had any significance he would figure it out in do time.

He continued down the path, counting now the number of squares with the eight pointed stars. When he reached sixteen, he noticed that the towering object in the distance seem to grow closer. Measurably closer.

Same thing when he reached twenty-four, then thirty-two. He kept his pace up there was defiantly a pattern now.

When Aang's count had reached fifty-six, not counting the eight that he had passed before, he found himself at the base of the object. He wished that he hadn't at all.

It was a tower, a literal tower of human skulls that reached far up into the blood red sky.

"About time you got here, Twinkle-toes! I was growing tired of waiting!"

Aang jumped and glanced up. He knew that voice. But it wasn't possible; she couldn't have followed him here. Could she?

As far as Aang knew it was incredibly difficult for some one who wasn't the Avatar to cross into the Spirit World, if this was still the Spirit World, she should be back in the human world with his body.

Toph Biefong, earthbender extraordinaire and the inventor of metalblending sat on a throne of brass that rested about a dozen feet from ground.

At first Aang was relieved, but then he noticed how Toph looked.

Toph looked like something from a nightmare. Her thin lips were pulled back into a malicious smile that revealed needle like teeth. Her hands were more like claws ending in razor sharp talons, which looked as though they had been drenched up to the elbow in blood and gore. Gone where her cream white and pale green Earth Kingdom clothes, instead her chest was protected by a blood red breast plate, adorn with spikes, hooks and from her belt were two skulls that hung from brass chains.

Above her right eye, which were no longer dull and white but were now alight with hellish fire, was the eight pointed star with skull rune in the middle, tattooed into her skin.

"You're not Toph." Was all that Aang manged to say.

Not-Toph, laughed. A harsh, chilling, angry sound, not caring that her laughter caused her needle teeth to cut into her lips and cause her blood to flow down her chin in bright crimson rivers.

"You are right Twinkle-toes. I am not Toph. Yet I am. I am Toph as she is; as she should be. I am her most base nature. I am Toph, Mistress of the Bloody Paths." The thing laughed before leaping down from her throne of brass, to face Aang.

Aang to his credit did not flinch but did take a step back, taking up a fighting stance, as the Mistress of the Bloody Paths, closed on him. This seemed to amuse her, as the Mistress of the Bloody Paths' lips spilt into a malicious smirk.

"What do you want?" He asked her, keeping his staff up ready to defend himself should the Mistress of the Bloody Paths prove violent.

And seeing how the girl, or whatever she was, in front of him was practically dripping with hostile intent and bloody murder, it was a good idea.

"What do I want?" The Mistress of the Bloody Paths snorted at the question. "What I want is war. Eternal war. Bloody, never ending. War between everyone, between everything. A paradise for the strong. I want a world where the blood flows freely and those with the power, with the strength to strive for more battle, more war, do so from a top the mountains of their dead foes. And I want you to help me instigate it."

_A paradise? _Aang thought in horror, _the hundred year war was bad enough, and no she wants me to help create an eternal war?_

"You're deluded. Insane." Aang retorted as spun in a slow circle, keeping the Mistress of the Bloody Paths in his sight at all times.

The Mistress of the Bloody Paths smirked and laughed again. "Don't you know anything, Avatar Aang? Sanity is for the weak!"

Toph, Mistress of the Bloody Paths slammed her foot down onto the ground, splitting it open in a spray of blood. A giant sword almost twice the size of her body erupted from the newly formed crevasse. The blade was etched with runes and other markings that burned his eyes just by looking at them.

Grabbing the sword's handle in the air, the Mistress of the Bloody Paths wasted no time and attacked. Aang ducked, as the Mistress of the Bloody Paths first swing very nearly took his head from his shoulders.

By the spirits' she was fast.

"The mortal realm is already a world shaped by conflicts. It is in humans' most base of natures to fight, to rage and hate." the Mistress of the Bloody Paths growled as she let loose another barrage of psychotic attacks, which Aang was hard pressed to dodge or block. "You should embrace it. Revel in your nature and allow your world to only be shaped by never ending bloody war!"

Aang leapt aside from a cleaving blow that would have split him from head to groin, and struck back with a flurry of quick jabs and thrusts with his staff. Although, like every bender in the world, Aang mostly relied on blasts of elements formed by his bending for his attacks, however many people forgot that bending was also just as physical as it was elemental.

Unfortunately for him Toph, Mistress of the Bloody Paths was just as tough and as strong as the Toph he knew back in the mortal world. Perhaps even stronger, even tougher, if that was at all possible.

"Admit it Avatar Aang." The Mistress of the Bloody Paths sneered, as she leapt back from a quick jab of his staff. "It angers you doesn't it? Knowing humans' real nature. It burns you to know that everything you have done is in vain. And when you are gone, when you are nothing but dust and memory, humans will be right back to killing and slaughtering each other. Might as well just embrace it, Aang, we'll never be more then our nature."

"No." Aang bit back, keeping his opponent on the defensive with jabs and thrusts. "We have moved beyond that, our base natures are no longer what define us. Our world is shaped by compromise, by peace. Our world is kept in balance because we work with each other to maintain it."

"You build on weakness then. You build on bureaucrats and sycophants." Toph, The Mistress of the Bloody Paths raged at him, emphasizing her words with brutal thrusts of her sword; as she attempted to skewer Aang. "There is no honour in weakness, in frailty, no honour in the compromises with the feeble and those who cannot fight for themselves. War! Battle! Fighting! Killing! Slaughtering! There is honour in that! It destroys the weak; it destroys the frail; it purges them like the vermin that they are!"

At her words, Aang felt his ire and his rage rising with every syllable, with every hate spewed word that dripped from the Mistress of the Bloody Paths' bloody lips.

"Honour?" Aang panted in rage, as he went on the offensive striking out with his staff. "There is no honour in war, no honour in killing, no honour in mindless slaughter. Honour comes from defending those who cannot defend themselves. It is justice tempered with mercy. The only thing you offer is senseless death and mindless destruction."

The Mistress of the Bloody Paths, dodge a sweeping strike of the Avatar's staff and smashed him in the face with a thunderous back hand that tossed him to the ground and made his teeth rattle in his skull.

The Mistress of the Bloody Paths snorted with obvious disgust at this sentimentality, as she watched him climb to his hands and knees. "You really are a pathetic worm, Avatar. Its' a pity really, there was so much raw potential in you, unfortunately for you, it will be my pleasure to kill you, and take your skull to rest at the feet of the Skull Throne for eternity. _**BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!**_"

Aang rolled, desperately trying to avoid the wild stabs of the Mistress of the Bloody Paths' sword. Needing breathing space and to go back onto the offensive, Aang kicked out attempting to trip, forcing the Mistress of the Bloody Paths to leap back, allowing Aang to flip backwards in a defensive crouch.

Aang yelped, as the Mistress of the Bloody Paths recovered faster then he had ever thought possible and threw herself at him with great cleaving blows from her giant sword. Ducking and weaving, Aang dodged back, desperately avoiding each cleaving strike, each flesh seeking thrust.

Aang knew that he wouldn't last long at this rate, the Mistress of the Bloody Paths was psychotic in her attacks and all it would take was a miss step, or a spilt second of hesitation and he would die.

He needed to end this. He needed to escape and get back to his world.

Aang's need served only to full his anger, as he struck out with several powerful strikes, which, had been facing any other opponent, would have seen them knocked unconscious with several broken ribs at the very least.

Toph, the Mistress of the Bloody Paths, unfortunately, was not a normal opponent. The blows glanced off the back of her head and her blood red armour, not even causing the Mistress of the Bloody Paths to flinch, or grunt in pain.

The Mistress of the Bloody Paths struck out with her sword, cutting into Aang's unarmoured, unprotected side.

Aang screamed as pain, burning and unbearable, blossomed from his side, and crimson, blood flowed over his hand as he clutched at the wound. He couldn't think, couldn't breath. He collapsed to the ground, pushed out with his feet, trying to keep away from his killer.

The Mistress of the Bloody Paths snorted and spat in disgust, as she stepped towards him.

"Pathetic. Worthless. I expected better from you, Avatar." She spat the title like it was a great insult or curse. "Now die like the weakling you are."

She raised her great sword, as she prepared to deal the final blow. Aang squeezed his eyes shut. He was going to die here and there was nothing that he could do.

Then it hit him. Realization. He knew what he had to do.

As the Mistress of the Bloody Paths swung her over-sized sword down, to cleave Aang's head from his should and end this sad charade, Aang leapt up onto his knees, with staff in hand and blocked the death blow.

Wood met steel and instead of breaking, instead of cutting through, Instead of breaking and splintering, Aang's staff glider stopped Toph, Mistress of the Bloody Paths' massive sword in mid-swing.

The Mistress of the Bloody Paths' eyes widened in shock, as she felt herself being pushed back, as Aang climbed to his feet. The wound on his side, was no longer bleeding, in fact you could not tell that Aang had been wounded at all. His yellow and orange robes were as pristine as they had been when he had entered this bloody realm.

"I know you now. Toph, Mistress of the Bloody Paths." Aang was calm, tranquil and serene. "This place and in extension, you, feed off rage and hate, anger and bloodshed. It gives you strength. It gives you power. You've been feeding of my own rage, my own hate. Everything that you've done, has been to make me angry, you wanted me to fall to your level, to become like you."

Aang looked the Mistress of the Bloody Paths straight in her hellish eyes. "All that rage is, all that hate is, is just another symptom of wounded pride. Just another form of shame. I am the Avatar. I'm past that. I'm with done with that."

He turned his back on the Mistress of the Bloody Paths and shouldered his staff. "We're done here."

The Mistress of the Bloody Paths roared in rage and burning hatred. "NO! We are not done Avatar! Come back here so I can kill you!"

Aang ignored her, continuing to walk down the skull path that had led him to her.

The Mistress of the Bloody Paths screamed in rage, as she hefted her giant sword. She charged, bloody, vicious murder, alight in her eyes. She would cut him down; she would kill him and present his skull to the throne of the Skull Lord.

As she closed on Aang, as she raised her bloody sword to cut him down, Aang turned, brining up his staff to meet the blow. As wood and steel collided in mid-air, as the unholy, bloody, ruin-etched sword, met the monk's simple wooden staff, the impossible happened.

The blade shattered into a thousand pieces.

Aang was the first to recover. He struck out with a quick thrust of his staff, striking the Mistress of the Bloody Paths in the gut. Toph, Mistress of the Bloody Paths' blood red armour, buckled beneath the blow, as the wind was knocked from her, and she was tossed to the ground.

Still clutching her broken sword's hilt, the Mistress of the Bloody Paths looked up to see the Avatar calmly watching her.

"I told you, we are done here, Toph, Mistress of the Bloody Paths. I'm leaving." He bowed, politely, in the tradition of the Air Nomads. "Goodbye Toph, Mistress of the Bloody Paths."

As he turned, the bloody realm of the Mistress of the Bloody Paths, changed. It seemed to fade and vanish, like mist in the sun.

The Mistress of the Bloody Paths climbed to her feet, as the image of Aang wavered and disappeared. She dropped the hilt of her broken sword and walked back to her throne of brass.

"Weak. Pathetic." Toph, Mistress of the Bloody Paths, whispered to herself as the skulls of her tower formed a stairway back to her seat. As she took her place upon her throne, she laughed.

"Luck to you, Avatar Aang." She chortled, raising her hand in a mock toast to the spot where he had vanished. "This is only the begining."

* * *

So eight days later after my first posting we have our first God, and our first Champion! Toph, Mistress of the Bloody Paths! Toph by far was the easiest to write, and I am rather proud of this chapter.

So one God down three to go. Who do you think will be next? Who do you think their champions will be?


	3. The Lord of Change

_**The Eightfold Path:**__ The Lord of Change, the Great Conspirator, the Uncatchable, Changing Wind_

As the world of blood and skulls shifted around him, Aang could not help but shiver as a feeling of unease crawled its way through him. A feeling, which over his sixteen years of life, had become disturbingly familiar.

It wasn't a feeling that had been born of cynicism. Aang was an eternal optimist, much to the displeasure of both Sokka and Zuko. Both of whom, during their travels to save the world from Ozai, it seemed could never enjoy themselves when something good happened to their group. They were both always too busy waiting for the punch line.

And as much as Aang hated to say it, the two had a stressing habit of being right.

No, Aang's feeling was more of an acceptance. He was the Avatar, and as such, he was a lightening rod for trouble. Not that he minded much, trouble was filled with opportunities for fun and excitement.

As the world shimmered into view before him, Aang knew that he had yet to escape this nightmare. Despite his optimistic streak, he knew that if this new realm was anything like the one before, there wouldn't be any fun to be had.

Aang took a cautious step forward and the shimmering haze of the new realm solidified and exploded into reality.

Aang wished that he hadn't taken that step. This new world was a world of nightmares and madness.

The sky was inky black. There was no sun, no moon, no stars that danced in the blackness, yet Aang could see as clearly here as he could on a bright summer's day. Instead of the sun, the moon, and the stars, great eyes, of every shape and colour, opened and closed randomly. Mouths with dripping fangs smiled and laughed, whispered and screamed before vanishing into the blackness.

Great towers of sparkling crystal reached up into the inky, black sky, twisting and shifting, as though they were alive, as though they were giant snakes. They seemed to have no set shape, as the towers spiralled and entwined themselves. At other times they would shatter and dissolve into smoke, only to appear in another location moments later.

The ground was almost impossible to describe. Like a shifting dream. It was form without shape, like sculpted fog.

Aang blinked, was that how you could describe it? With a paradox?

He mulled it over, turning the very idea over in his mind, analyzing it from every angle. Eventually he nodded to himself. The paradox fit this realm of change, and inconsistency, this realm of impossibility.

He shook his head. He was not going to get out of this place by coming with ways to describe it. Aang needed to move, but had no idea of where he was supposed to go. The pervious realm, the world of blood and bones, of brass and storms, had been straight forward, a single path leading to his forced confrontation with the Mistress of the Bloody Paths.

There were no such indications in this world of madness and change. Aang stared out into the swirling, changing world, looking for something, some hint; some clue that would tell him where it was that he needed to go.

Finally he saw it. Silhouetted in the distance, was a great building or structure, which unlike the great crystal towers seemed to be almost stable. That's were he needed to go.

Aang took a step, and again the world changed. Great walls of gleaming crystal erupted from the ground, surrounding him, entrapping him in a prison of shimmering, unassailable glass.

_No not a prison_, Aang realized. _A maze._

Twisting paths rounded corners and branched off in all different directions, as the crystal walls seemed to move on their own accord. Blocking off existing passageways and opening up dozens more, only for them to be sealed away again moments later.

This was a maze of madness and impossibility. How was one supposed to escape it, to solve it, if the walls kept moving? Kept changing? It was impossible. Was that the point? Aang wondered, to keep him trapped in this labyrinth until he went mad, or died of either thirst or starvation?

No.

That couldn't be it. It made no sense. Why would they bring him here, if they were just going to kill him? Why did they allow him, after his confrontation with the Mistress of the Bloody Paths, to simply, walk away unharmed if they were just going to kill him here?

This was a puzzle, a riddle. One that he had to solve if he had any chance of escape and rejoining his friends back in the Mortal Realm.

He breathed deep, and took a step and another, and another, he would get out of here. He had to.

Normally a good solution for solving a maze is to keep your left hand on a wall and follow it until you reached the exit. But with the walls constantly changing, and moving, that strategy was shot all to hell.

The only way to get out, Aang realised, was to be quick, and very, very, lucky.

So on and on he walked, twisting, turning, taking corners, doubling back when the walls allowed him to. Pathways that were once straight would turn into spirals on a whim, only to straighten out again after so many steps.

Despite the ever changing nature of the labyrinth, Aang kept his choler in check. He would not make the mistake of loosing his temper again, while he was trapped within this world.

Still even he had his limits, and this maze was seriously starting to strain his patience.

It didn't help that he was also being followed.

Though how anything could follow someone in this ever changing trap, was beyond him. The important thing was that it had manged somehow.

It wasn't just a feeling that Aang had. Although he could never catch a clear glimpse of the entity that was pursuing him, he did see a reflection, he did see its shadow dancing in the walls of the maze. But every time he turned around or glanced behind, the passageway would be deserted, save for the ever changing walls.

Yet after several minutes of walking alone in silence, Aang would once again, catch movement out of the corner of his eye. The shadows of people moving in the crystal walls of the maze, keeping in stride with him. Again Aang would turn, staff raised, ready to strike, only to find himself, once again, alone.

This was getting annoying.

He had to keep moving, the secret to solving this labyrinth of crystal had to be here somewhere in this maze; he just had to keep moving.

_Turn left, and then right, now straight then left again. Blocked, damn. Double back, keep right, now left, blocked again... wait passage to my right just opened, take that then head right again. _

The shadows in the crystal mirror walls followed him, always just keeping pace, always just at the corner of his vision. Vaguely human shapes, always vanishing into the mist and crystal when Aang turned in the hopes of catching his pursuer.

Very annoying.

Eight times he had turned, hoping that this would be the time that he caught his mysterious tail. Eight times, the pursuer had vanished, making Aang all the more determined to put an end to this farce.

He turned left again, and walked down an unusually straight passage. He had a good feeling about this one. As Aang moved, he saw out of the corner of his eye, the shadows of his followers had appeared once again within the crystal walls.

They were closer this time. As though his pursuer was getting bold, becoming reckless, as though they were so sure of their skill that they believed themselves to be uncatchable. Aang smirked, two could play that game.

Aang broke into a run, moving as fast as he could, down the passage of crystal walls. The shadows kept pace, moving just as quick, but keeping, always keeping, just at the corner of Aang's vision.

Aang kept running, not even breathing hard. He turned a corner and came to a full stop, his back pressed against the crystalline wall. He waited, patiently, listening for the sound of pursuing foot steps and laboured breathing. There was nothing, nothing but the sound of shifting walls and passages.

His pursuer was good. Really good.

Aang smirked. He was better. He leapt out from behind his corner, staff raised, and ready to strike at his unwanted follower.

The passage was empty. There was nothing here. He was alone.

He shook his head. This maze was messing with him. He was becoming paranoid.

Aang turned to continue trying to find the exit, when a crystal wall exploded from the ground in front of him, blocking his path.

Sighing in frustration, Aang was about to turn around, hoping to find a way past this newest obstacle when he noticed something. Something in the depths of the crystalline wall.

Shadows, formless, shapeless, danced within the wall.

He turned quickly, hoping to catch whatever it was that was casting those shadows. The path behind him was deserted. Convinced that he was now alone, Aang turned back to the wall. Something about the shadows in the mirrored surface fascinated him, the way they twisted and turned; almost as if alive.

Suddenly there was a bright flash from the crystal mirror. Shapeless shadows became solid forms. The shadows became people, became buildings, became trees and flowers, stone and animals. There was another bright flash and Aang found himself staring out into the mortal realm as though he was simply looking at it from a glassed panned window.

_Five people, three young children, an older, bearded, distinguished looking man, with an airbending tattoo, and a young Water Tribe girl, stood in front of a familiar looking contraption. A device that made Aang smile when he first saw it and then growl in anger. Dozens of wooden flags hung on movable wooden polls, allowing them to spin in place, it was a time honoured tool used to teach airbenders movement, to be graceful, to be a leaf in the wind. To think that this ancient device landed in the hands of some collector or Air Nomad enthusiast galled him. _

_Then older man bent a gust of wind, blowing it through the flags, causing them to spin in place. Aang was dumbfounded. For so long he had thought that he had been the only Air Nomad left in the whole world. The others had been wiped out by the Fire Nation's genocidal campaign a hundred years ago. But here in front of him, in this mirror it showed another._

As Aang pressed closer to the wall, the image wavered and vanished, just as a young girl, in the yellow and orange robes of the Air Nomads was dancing through the many spinning flags.

"No!" Aang yelled as he pounded his fist against the wall. He wanted it to go back, to show him that there were more people like himself left in this world.

The wall flashed again, and Aang saw a thousand, thousand different visions some flashed before his eyes before he could blink, others stayed in view a minute or so, before vanishing and rejoining the parade.

_Another vision appeared, and Aang saw himself, older, wiser. Linked arm in arm with an older Katara, as three children ran between their legs. The oldest splashing her brothers with water bent from a pond, with flicks of her wrists, while her brothers ran away laughing. The youngest, turned as a flick of water raced towards him, only to blast it away with a quick gust of wind._

It hit him then, he was seeing the future. He was seeing what would happen, what could happen. He stared deeper into the mirrored surface, wanting to know everything; the knowledge tantalized him with their promises.

Before Aang could see what happened, the vision vanished again, only for another to take its place.

_Aang saw the Water Tribe girl from his first vision. But something was wrong. She was writhing in pain. A man stood in the shadows in front of her, his arms out stretched in clawed gesture. He twisted his hands, and Aang could see the girl's muscles twisting, and the bones popping under the pressure of her own veins._

_Blood Bending_

_The man in the shadows gestured with his hands, levitating the girl with her own body's water and carrying her down the steps of the massive building that they had standing in. He floated her over to a strange wagon, where a metal box was loaded in the back._

_As the blood bender lowered the Water Tribe girl into the box, and moved to slam the door shut, the girl attacked, letting out, much to Aang's surprise, a blast of fire from her mouth._

The vision faded, as leaned back from the wall. Who was that? A Water Tribal? Who could firebend? He smiled without humour to himself. He was looking at the next reincarnation. He was looking at his next life.

He turned back to the crystal wall. He wanted to see, wanted to know, he needed to know more.

_Blackness, he couldn't see anything, but there was a feeling. Anxiety? Excitement? Anticipation? He couldn't decide._

_Suddenly bright light and fire exploded from the large set at the front of the massive stadium. In the silhouette Aang could see hundreds, thousands of people, clapping cheering. _

_The lights on the stage fascinated him, it was like someone had manged to capture, and bottle lightening. Was this impossibility something of the future? _

_He turned his attention back to stage, where five instruments had been set. Three were easy enough for Aang to identify, first; there where the drums. But these unlike any that he had ever seen before. Normally a drum was a single or paired instrument, but this one had multiple drums attached to large circle drum that was set up right. Across the face of the large drum was a stylized word, that he could not read, it was not in the traditional __**hanzi**_ _Chinish characters that dominated the Earth Kingdoms, nor was it the __**kanji**_ _of the Fire Nation._

_Curious._

_The two other instruments that he recognized looked like variants of the pipa, except one had four strings, the other, six. The last two instruments, Aang did not recognize, the first was black and flat and tilted slightly upright. It had no stings, but Aang could see white tiles, rung up and down its length. The other instrument, looked like a miniature pipa, but surprisingly shaped in a squiggly line._

_Then they came out. First was Zuko, gripped in his hands were two wooden sticks, which he trusted up in the air to immense pleasure of the crowd. Katara followed after him, giving glare which was returned with a wink. Sokka and Suki came next, Sokka clapping and whooping, while Suki shook her head before picking up her strange squiggly pipa._

_Lastly came Toph with Mirror Aang leading her. Aang found that strange. Toph was able to see better then any of the group, why did she need a mirror version of him self to lead her? _

_Then he saw why. Toph's feet were encased in heavy boots. Yet the blind girl didn't seem to care as she grinned and smiled to her fans. Aang led her to the strange flat instrument before taking his own pipa._

_As the vision faded, and began to dissolve, Katara faced the crowed and it erupted in what Aang believed to be cheers._

_Then blackness. _

Aang blinked as the vision vanished. The mirror wall obviously did not just show visions and prophecies of the future. Then if not, what was the last image that he had seen? Was it an alternate world? A different universe? Or was it something more sinister? Something created to put his concept of reality to the question? Aang didn't know.

Despite the feeling of unease, his curiosity got the better of him, and he continued to look deeper into the crystal wall.

_Aang stared as he saw himself, no longer bald, but with long, curly black hair with no tattoo, dark skin and dressed in black, with a white shall draped across his shoulders. Yet despite his drab, and gloomy appearance he had a large smile on his face and good natured humour in his grey eyes. His arm was wrapped around the waist of a pale skinned woman, dressed in a flowing, light blue dress. The woman had hair like he never seen before, it was like spun gold and braided in a single braid that reached just above her waist. However he knew this woman; the two loops of hair, and that warm smile; Aang knew it was Katara._

_Beside them was Toph. Her tunic was no longer the simple pale green and creamy white, but now a dark green, and embroidered with golden trim. Instead of the green and gold disk of the Earth Kingdom, there was now a trio of gold stylized flowers decorating the centre of Toph's tunic. A second later Toph reached out, and punched the man next to her, playfully in shoulder. _

_The man, Aang could tell by the scar on the side of his face, was Zuko, but like the others he was so different, Aang almost didn't recognize him. His thick, black hair was shoulder length and not done up in elaborate top-knot that so popular among his countrymen. Instead of the rich crimson robes of the Fire Lord and gold, flame shaped head dress, he wore a scarlet tabard with a hauberk of chain beneath it. Decorated on the tabard was the black flame of the Fire Nation, flanked by two rampant golden lions. Instead of Zuko's traditional dual dao broadswords, he had a single long bladed sword belted to his side._

_Opposite to the group, sitting cross-legged and drinking from a hollowed bear-ox horn, was another pale skinned, golden haired man. The man had an easy going smile, which was so recognizable that Aang immediately knew that the man was Sokka. His hair was pulled back into his traditional warrior-wolf tail. Like Zuko he too wore a heavy hauberk of chain a top a wool tunic dyed blue. A helmet with two eye pieces to protect the eyes, made from iron and steel, rested in his lap and a wide bladed sword rested next to him on the ground. Strapped across his back, instead of his trademark boomerang, was pair of short handled axes. _

_Beside him, head resting on his shoulder, was Suki. She too was armoured, but instead of the traditional armoured green kimonos and white, elaborate make up of the Kyoshi Warriors, she was clad in a moulded breast plate that highlighted her femininity. A winged crested helm rested in her lap, a long spear, a wooden tear-shaped shield and a sword similar to Sokka's lay beside her in the grass. Now and again she would take bear-ox horn from Sokka's hand; leaving him pouting until she would return it, along with a kiss._

That was it. There was something wrong with this maze. It wasn't the shifting walls that were the real danger, it was these visions, these prophecies; the could bes, the would bes, the might bes, the alternate worlds and the new realities.

But before he could pull away the vision changed again, and he saw something that horrified him.

_He saw Sokka, almost unrecognizable, the left side of his face was blackened mess of frostbitten, nerve dead flesh, and a long white scar that traced itself over his left eye, which had been sewn shut. This Sokka stood, whale tooth sword drawn, and bone club readied, facing off against an image of Aang who had his own staff raised in defence. _

_Behind the Mirror Aang; Zuko, Toph and Azula fought tooth, nail, fire and stone, against Master Pakku, Katara, and Suki. The mirror Katara scared him the most, her eyes, which had always been warm and caring, were now two icy pits of blue, utterly devoid of pity or mercy. Which showed in her bending; every attack, every gesture, every skilled, graceful movement that she made, was filled with nothing but cold, lethal intent. _

_Facing Katara was Azula. Although there was no doubt of her natural raw talent, Azula was showing none of the mastery of firebending that she had displayed in the past. Azula was on the defensive and was almost overwhelmed, by the sheer ferocity of Katara's attacks. Blasts of water would throw her of balance, while spikes of razor sharp ice almost skewered the Fire Princess, on multiple occasions. _

_Toph was having just as many problems facing the experienced Master Pakku. Every attack that she made was shattered by high pressured blast of water, caused with an almost uncaring flicks of the wrist by the master waterbender. Strangely enough, Master Pakku did not seem all that interested in attacking the blind earthbender, and merely settled with obliterating her attacks. _

_Zuko fought Suki, favouring his dao broadswords, in the close, raging, melee, rather then his firebending. Their clash was fast, furious and graceful. Suki fought with her katana showing all the deadly skill that she had developed over her lifetime of training. Sparks flew as steel clashed with steel as the two warriors danced. Their swords weaving a deadly web of steel, seeking nicks and slights cuts, as the two sought the defining moment. That single fraction of an instant of inner tension, which would result in a final, killing blow._

_Aang watched as Sokka attacked his alternate self, bone club raised to crack down on the Avatar's skull. Mirror Aang nimbly dodged the attack, then unleashed a blast of wind that knocked his opponent from his feet. Sokka recovered quickly, rolling to his feet, as he dropped the whale tooth sword, and reached for his boomerang that was strapped to his back._

_Mirror Aang dodged the projectile, but that was just a distraction. Sokka charged again, and bone club of the Water Tribes met wooden staff of the Air Nomads. Sokka fought ferociously and aggressively, keeping Aang always on the defensive. As Aang blocked another downward strike, Sokka kicked out, burying his foot into Aang's gut, and tossing him to the ground._

_Mirror Aang kicked out from the ground, spinning on his back and unleashing another blast of wind. Sokka jumped away from the gust of wind, only to have a blast of fire almost immolate him, as Mirror Aang went on the attack._

The battle waned and vanished, only for another vision to come into focus. A city, like no other city that Aang had ever seen, a city where great towers of steel and glass reached into the sky, like skeletal fingers. A city that thousands called home. A city that was burning.

_War zeppelins, bearing the heraldry of the Phoenix King, filled the air, blasting the city apart with great blasts of fire, while other's counter- attacked, trying to force the attackers back, and away from the city. On the ground, fires erupted as the attackers forced their way, deeper into the heart of the city._

_Aang saw himself in the centre of the swirling battle, next to him was Toph wearing metal armour and swatting down enemy firebenders with long steel cables that extended from two reels at her side. On and on, they fought, side by side, Toph with her cables, Aang with gusts of wind, waves of water, chunks of earth and stone and great blasts of roaring fire._

_A tidal wave appeared down a street, washing many of the attacking firebenders out the city square. Katara appeared behind it, using high pressured blasts of water to destroy enemy tanks and cut through war machines with fluid gestures and sweeps of her hands. On the other side of the square, Sokka, sword drawn led a counter attack, of Water Tribe warriors, Earth Kingdom soldiers, and Fire Nation benders, into an exposed flank, cutting down enemies with skilled sweeps of his jian blade._

_As the battle raged, Mirror Aang looked up, and saw a Fire Nation zeppelin heading towards the contested square. Standing on the edge was the ex-Princess of Fire Nation, Azula. Her lips pulled back in a superior smirk, she was crowned with the elaborate head piece that Fire Lord Ozai had worn during his short reign as the Phoenix King. _

_With a twirl of his trusted staff, Aang extended his glider, and leapt up into the air to take on the newly risen Phoenix Queen._

As he approached the massive airship, the vision once again shimmered and vanished into the depths of the crystal mirror.

Before Aang could pull himself away from the visions of futures, of alternate worlds, and histories, the wall shimmered again, and another thousand visions passed before him. Another world, another vision.

_Standing at the crest of a hill, dressed in ornate armour, painted a deep, royal blue and armed with a long thin sword belted at her side, Katara looked like a warrior queen dressed for battle. Beside her was Aang, no longer in his robes but wearing similar armour and wielding a massive spear, which glowed a pale blue in the setting sun. Behind them was hulking metal behemoth. Its armoured shell was painted a pale green and creamy white. Standing almost twelve-feet tall and almost as wide, its massive hand gripped an overly large stone hammer, while the other ended in heavy metal tube. _

_Beside them sat Sokka, a cloak of differing shades of greens, greys, and browns lay draped across his shoulders, in his hands was a long metal tube, that ended in a wooden handle and was fitted with a telescope. Across his chest was a leather strap that contained a dozen large metal cylinders._

_Zuko, like Aang and Katara was dressed in armour, but painted in a dark crimson, stood to his left speaking softly to Sokka, who periodically would nod, or his shake his head, offering his own comment, as he watched the valley bellow them._

_Suddenly Sokka pointed into the valley. Zuko lifted a telescope to his good eye, and after a moment nodded, and yelled something to Katara and Aang. Katara gave a stern nod, and closed her eyes. Aang was astonished to see a circle of bluish green runes encircling her spinning around her. As the runes spun faster and faster the great hulking machine behind her rumbled awake, as the large exhausts ports on its back, belched out a massive cloud of black smoke, as it eyes glowed a menacing yellow._

_In the valley below them, marched what had to be three dozen scarlet clad men, armed with pikes, carrying broad, heavy shields and had short swords belted at their sides. Behind them, another giant machine, a long spear and colossal shield gripped in its massive hands, its armoured hull painted bright red and decorated with emblem of the Fire Nation, moved as the column's rear guard. They marched in disciplined ranks, the sun shining brightly off the tips of pikes, and crested helms. _

_The soldiers in valley were impressive and dignified, and they were completely unaware of the ambush they marching into. The metal behemoth took two gigantic strides, and levelled its arm, the one attached to massive metal barrel. Fire and smoke, belched from the open end and second later, the ground in front of the scarlet erupted in a massive explosion._

_To their credit, the scarlet armoured men did not break, but formed up to attack, even as six or seven of them, ceased to exist and showered them in gore and broken body parts. Aang was horrified at the devastation, caused by that single shot. As the scarlet men marched in lock step, towards the small group, their shields raised and pikes lowered, Sokka took aim with his long, tube weapon. Fire blossomed from the end, and a second later another man fell away in a spray of crimson mist, his head missing from his shoulders._

_Katara gestured again, and their green and cream white beast, adjusted its fire barrel. It fired again, its explosive projectile slammed into other machine, causing it to stumble back, as its armour plating buckled and splintered. The red machine soon recovered, and began moving forward, even as the pale green and creamy white machine of the Gaang moved to forward, almost eagerly, to engage it. _

_As the pike men moved up, Sokka fired again, only for the projectile to spark and deflect off the shield of the pike men. As Sokka drew one of the cylinders from the leather strap across his chest, Zuko drew his sword and ran his hand down the blade. Bright red and orange runes encircled the blade. As the circle of runes spun faster and faster, Zuko pointed his sword at the advancing pike men. A blast of fire erupted from the point and slammed into the armoured soldiers consuming several in the conflagration._

Aang wanted to pull away; he wanted the visions to stop. He could almost smell those men roasting in their amour; he could almost hear their screams. But once again the visions changed.

_War, blood, and fire filled his vision. He saw murder and horrors, unleashed upon the world. He saw cities burning, the smoke choking out the very sun, as the very ground seemed to rot and fester._

_He saw places so filled with death that even crows and the rats grew sick of carnage and carrion._

_He watched in horror as men, women, and children gave themselves over to insanity, slitting each others throats in dark, candle lit rituals. He saw parents sacrificing, and devouring their own young, as some unspeakable horror that seemed to exist yet not, chanted in praise of them, in a dark, evil tongue._

_He saw his friends, one by one, lead up to a black stone alter to have their hearts cut out, and given over to a being made of fire and blood. _

_And above it all; he heard the dark, malicious laughter of thirsting gods._

Aang pulled himself away, his eyes shut tight, cold sweat dripping down his brow, his heart hammering, and his fists where clenched in terror.

He breathed deeply. Trying to get his racing heart under control. But how could he? After what he had seen, after the horrors that only he knew about. How only he knew they were all doomed? Doomed to die at the hands of monsters beyond descriptions, beyond anything any single person, Avatar or spirit had ever encountered before.

They were all doomed...

_No_. A voice shouted. A tiny voice, as though shouting over a great distance, but it was persistent and stubborn. _These visions, these futures, were not set in stone, there was no such thing as certainty. That was point of life._

Aang stood up, and opened his eyes, and smiled. That was point of this maze. It was created to show these visions, to show these lies, to drive the trespassers past their breaking point and into insanity with the endless visions of possibilities and dark tidings.

He would not fall into that trap. Aang closed his eyes again, and took a step, fully expecting to run into the crystal wall that had been erected in front of him.

Nothing.

He grinned, but did not open his eyes and continued instead, to walk forward, counting his steps. _One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine..._

At nine, he walked into straight into solid, unmoving object. He opened his eyes. The building that he had seen in the distance, now towered over him, impossibly high, and like everything in this realm, it was ever changing.

Buttresses would extend from the walls, only to retract moments later. Statues of humanoid birds, clutching ornamental staffs, scrolls, and large tomes would morph out of the solid stone, only dissolve again some time later. Windows would move constantly, never remaining in one place for long.

It was a fortress of madness. An impossibility, but here it was. As real as the rest of this world was.

There were nine doors, painted a dark, cobalt blue and filthy bronze, which led into the heart of the fortress. Aang stepped back, studying them, as he pondered on how to gain entrance. There was no door handles to pull and they were too heavy to push open.

However each door had a small knocker, is shape of either a snake, or a bird. Like much of the fortress, the knockers changed, from snake to bird, and back again, but always a different shape, always a different species of raptor and reptile.

Aang reached out tentatively, and seized one of the seemingly flimsy door knockers, and tapped three times against the massive door.

Despite his gentle rapping, his gentle tapping at the door, all nine of them echoed out with three thunderous booms. It was as though someone had slammed a battering ram against them.

Aang waited patiently, but nothing happened. The fortress continued to change, the doors remained sealed.

Again Aang took the cast iron ring, in the shape of a two-headed viper this time, and once again rapped it three times against the blue and bronze doors. Again, all nine doors echoed with thunderous booms like the claps of thunder.

Nothing happened.

Frustrated, Aang seized the ring, a raven now, and slammed it against the door once, twice, thrice. As he lifted the ring once again to slam it against the massive door, all nine doors swung open, granting Aang entrance to the impossible fortress.

The inside of the fortress was dark, pitch black. But seeing no alternatives, Aang took deep, calming breath, and stepped through the gates. As soon as he passed the threshold, the nine doors swung shut, leaving him in total darkness.

A moment later, great torches lit, and sprung to life in dark, blue flames. Thousands of them.

Aang could not suppress a gasp of surprise. The inside of the fortress was huge, wider than even the Palace of the Earth King and filled with shelf upon shelf full of books, tomes, scrolls, and maps. The shelves, like the ceiling reached impossibly high, how they did not simply fall over was a mystery to him, as they reached up beyond his sight.

It was a library, a collection of knowledge, which would have made Professor Zei drool with longing, and the spirit Wan Shi Tong green with envy.

He walked forwards, along a crooked path marked with blazing braziers, and lined with bright blue torches. Aang resisted the temptation to prowl along those shelves, to dive into the books, he had a purpose here. He needed to escape and find his friends.

The was a shuffling out the corner of his eye, and he saw, much to his amazement, a thick, leather bound tome, scuttling across the floor like a giant crab. Behind it, chased something, some pink indescribable thing, which constantly changed and mutated, it panted and growled, and cursed the book in a hideous, black language that hurt his ears just to hear it.

It rounded a corner created by the shelves and was lost from view. He continued on, passing upon shelf after shelf filled with knowledge. Finally he reached an opening. The shelves had been pushed back, and a circle of humanoid raven statues bearing torches, created a wide ring that surrounded a large wooden table.

A figure shrouded in darkness, despite the bright blue flame of the torches, sat on the opposite side, facing Aang.

"So it was you." The figure said as he leaned in his chair. "It was you who came rapping, gently rapping, tapping at my door."

Every ninth word that figure spoke was echoed as the chorused by several others. Aang spun around making sure that the two of them were alone, that no one else was attempting to sneak up on him.

The figure continued. "About time you got here, buddy. I was growing tired of waiting."

The word 'growing' was echoed.

Aang was knew that voice, and as he walked into the ring, the figure snapped his fingers, and the torches blazed all the brighter, revealing himself to Aang.

It was Sokka. But not.

It was Sokka as seen through a vision of madness. He was naked from waist up, save all for a cloak of raven feathers, draped across his thin shoulders. His face was twisted, like some one had remoulded it from clay, moving his nose, ears, and eyes until it resembled an image cast from a broken mirror. His face had no mouth, instead, across his lean torso, nine separate mouths, slithered, and wormed up and down and across his body like thin snakes. His offset, icy blue eyes, gleamed with fevered insanity, and the smug look of a man who knew every move that you were going to make, and had planned for it accordingly.

"You're not Sokka."

Not-Sokka's many mouths all opened in mocking laughter as they continued to worm across his body. "True, I am not the Sokka that you know. I am Sokka fully realized. I am Sokka who has been illuminated by the truth of the universe. I am Sokka, Master of the Ever Changing Plot."

Aang nodded. "You are Sokka as he was meant to be, you are his most base nature. I already ran into the Mistress of the Bloody Paths, she told me almost the exact same thing. So you are the next test I see."

The Master of the Ever Changing Plot's eyes narrowed at the mention of Toph as he snorted in disgust. "That unimaginative brute? A test? Don't make me laugh Avatar. The Mistress of the Bloody Paths' only concern is strength of arms and brute force. There's nothing to be tested with her. "

The Master of the Ever Changing Plot leaned back into his chair, his nine mouths now all smiling friendly smiles, as he waved a hand at the empty seat on the other side of the table." Come on now, Aang, buddy! Sit! Have some tea, and let's play a game, just like the good old days."

Seeing no other option, Aang sat down in front of the Master of the Ever Changing Plot. He noticed that a cup of steaming brew had appeared in front of him. Aang sniffed at it, suspiciously, before raising it to lips and cautiously sipping it. His eyes widened, it was good, very good.

Placing the mug down, he glared at the Master of the Ever Changing Plot, as he drank deeply from his own cup.

"So what game did you want to play?" Aang asked his host.

The Master of the Ever Changing Plot smiled and waved an empty hand over the bare table. Aang leapt back in surprise as a black and white chequered board with thirty-two pieces, materialized on the scarred wood of the table.

"How about a rousing game of regicide?" The Master of the Ever Changing Plot's nine mouths grinned enthusiastically.

Aang was less enthusiastic. Regicide was a complex game involving strategy, tactics, and a knowledge of your opponent. The goal was to take the opposing player's Emperor, while protecting your own. It held great popularity among the Earth Kingdom elite and nobility, and Aang had played it a few times, but he was no master. Sokka however, had fallen in love with the game, and was always trying to find a new opponent to test himself against.

The Master of the Ever Changing Plot waved his hand at the board. "The guest has the first move."

Aang moved one the Peons that formed the first line, and the game was underway.

The Master of the Ever Changing Plot responded to the move with his own Peon, and then glanced up at Aang. "So Avatar, I have a riddle for you."

Aang looked down at the board as he pondered his next move. "Oh, what is it?"

The Master of the Ever Changing Plot's nine mouths smiled again. "Tell me, mighty Avatar, what is the most powerful piece in the game?"

Aang glanced up at his opponent. "What happens if I get it wrong?"

The Master of the Ever Changing Plot merely smiled and shrugged.

"And if I get it right?"

Again he smiled and shrugged.

Aang thought as he studied his pieces. Which was the most powerful? Not the Emperor, the Emperor could only move a single space, albeit in any direction, but it was incapable of defending itself, and had to rely on others. The Empress then, it could move any number of spaces and in all directions; that was a good guess.

_But wait a second_. He suddenly realized, _what about the Cavalryman?_ The piece was only one that could jump over other pieces and had the most unique move. That was also pretty useful.

Aang looked back up at the Master of the Ever Changing Plot, whose mouths wore a superior smirk as he moved his Scholar in a diagonal line. It was a riddle; the obvious answer was usually the wrong one. He studied his pieces again, running his hands over them, as he pondered their usefulness, and as he moved another of his Peons, the answer hit him like a rampaging komodo-rhino.

He was looking at the riddle from the wrong point of view. It wasn't about which piece was the most useful; it was about the piece that could have the largest impact on the board, on the game.

"The Peon." Aang said at last, as he moved his own two spaces.

The Master of the Ever Changing Plot's many mouths burst into pleased laughter. "Excellent! What made you guess that?"

Aang leaned back in his seat. "It's the only piece that can be changed into something else. It's the only one that can rise above its station."

The Master of the Ever Changing Plot laughed again. "As I said, a good answer, but ultimately wrong. Guess again."

Aang remained silent however and several moves later, he toppled his Emperor over in defeat as The Master of the Ever Changing Plot called checkmate.

"Well that was fun." The Master of the Ever Changing Plot chuckled, "how about another game, Avatar Aang?"

Aang pushed up from the table. "No thank you, Sokka, Master of the Ever Changing Plot. You can show me how to get out of here."

The Master of the Ever Changing Plot's grins never faded from his many mouths. "And why would I do that? You have nothing to bargain or threaten me with, so why would I help you?"

Aang sat back down at the table. "It seems that I don't have much choice."

The Master of the Ever Changing Plot's nine grins spread wider as they slithered up and down his body. "You do. You always have a choice. Right now your choice is either; play some games with me, have some fun and challenge your intellect, or loose yourself in my realm. Wander through my maze for the rest of eternity, until your mind is nothing more than a fractured, broken shadow, a plain of dementia and madness."

"So really, no choice." Aang deadpanned.

The Master of the Ever Changing Plot shrugged again, and waved his hand. The regicide board faded and dissipated, the table that the two sat at, shifted and morphed, turning into the familiar shape of a Pai Sho table board. A pile of tiles materialized on either side, next to the two players.

"Pai Sho?" Aang raised an eyebrow at the Master of the Ever Changing Plot.

The Master of the Ever Changing Plot nine mouths smiled as he placed a tile on the board. "I thought that we'd play something that was more familiar to you."

Aang responded with his own tile. It was obvious by the third and fourth tile that the Master of the Ever Changing Plot was not playing with the flair, or the tactical genius that he had displayed during their game of regicide, and Aang beat him quite soundly with his ninth turn.

"Well, Aang, that makes one game apiece. Obviously we cannot have it remain a tie." The Master of the Ever Changing Plot waved a hand, and the tiles returned to their respective owners. "To the victor goes the first move."

Again, as the two played, Aang found himself playing against a completely different opponent. Every move was countered and Aang found himself racing to catch up. Sokka had always had a natural gift for tactics and strategies, but Aang had always at least given Sokka a challenge when it came to Pai Sho. But now it seemed as though Sokka was unbeatable, and after two more moves, Aang conceited.

Again with a flick of his hand, the Master of the Ever Changing Plot, reset the board. "Well how about that? One more for me."

He pushed a tile into the centre of the board, and once again the game was joined. Once again Aang found his opponent less then challenging, and in just a few moves he had beaten the Master of the Ever Changing Plot again.

"You win again Avatar." The Master of the Ever Changing Plot sounded almost bored, as he rearranged the board. The game began, and again Aang found himself facing a master who quickly had him on the defensive.

"Why are you doing this?" Aang asked him as he placed his tile close to his side of the board.

"Doing what?" The Master of the Ever Changing Plot grinned innocently, as he moved his own piece.

"Changing the way you play." Aang growled, as he tossed his last piece on the table, the Master of the Ever Changing Plot had beaten him again. "First you play like a grandmaster, then the next you play worse than a novice. What's your game?"

The Master of the Ever Changing Plot's nine mouths smirked, as his offset eyes making it impossible to maintain eye contact. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Aang. My game is Pai Sho, and it's your turn now."

Aang glared at the Master of the Ever Changing Plot, as he moved his tiles, and after another turn Aang claimed victory.

The games continued. The Master of the Ever Changing Plot would defeat Aang with seemingly little effort, only for Aang to tie the score on the next one.

Finally after their eighth game, the score was tied; four to four.

The Master of the Ever Changing Plot chuckled. "Well we seem to be all tied up again."

Aang said nothing, but glared at the nightmare that was the Master of the Ever Changing Plot. The Master of the Ever Changing Plot grinned again, as he waved his hand. The Pai Sho board disappeared, leaving the table barren and empty.

The Master of the Ever Changing Plot leaned forward, his nine mouths grinning maniacally. "How 'bout one last game? An all or nothing game?"

Aang felt his eyebrow rise at the suggestion. "What do you mean by all or nothing?"

The nine mouths never lost their sickening smiles. "I mean one last game, you win and I will tell you how to escape my realm."

"And if I lose?"

The smiles grew larger. "You will swear yourself to me. To my service."

Aang was silent for a long moment. Should he take this risk? What other choice did he have? He could refuse, walk away, and his find own way out, like he had when he had been forced to confront the Mistress of the Bloody Paths.

Aang doubted it would be that simple. This whole realm was one giant maze, one riddle after another. Why had the Master of the Ever Changing Plot played those games with him? The Mistress of the Bloody Paths had been brutal and direct, but the Master of the Ever Changing Plot seemed to be enjoying his games, his feints and his riddles, what was his angle?

"Fine." Aang said curtly, "I accept your challenge, and your terms."

The Master of the Ever Changing Plot laughed with delight as he clapped his hands together. Their chairs shot back to the edge of the circle, before vanishing. Aang crashed to the ground, still clutching his staff. As he leapt to his feet, the floor changed; morphing, shaking, rumbling.

Aang watched as seas formed from the stone floor of the fortress, he saw mountains rise, and in a matter of moments, Aang found himself staring at a map of the world. As he stared into the map he saw dozens of pawns form and arrange themselves on the map.

He saw a pawn, with the crown of the Earth King resting in the palace in Ba Sing Se, a few inches from it there was another with a short dignified beard top knot in the city. In the Fire Nation capital, there four that stood out, one had the head piece of the Fire Lord, the one beside it, had rounded buns on its head, another with black done in elaborate bun. The last one sat alone far from the palace in a solitary tower.

In the former Fire Nation colonies, located in the Earth Kingdom, there were three more pieces, one with a bright blue arrow, another had the traditional hair-loops of the Water Tribe, and the final wore a tight, black bun.

There were other pawns, other pieces, in villages and towns, in the South and North Pole, in cities and fortresses. On Kyoshi Island Aang saw pawns of the island warriors, and one with a wolf-tail that was undoubtedly Sokka.

Aang looked back at the Master of the Ever Changing Plot, his narrowed in suspicion. "What is this?"

The Master of the Ever Changing Plot, smiled and spread his arms. "This is The Game. The Great Game. The truth of the universe, Avatar Aang. We are all slaves to the fortune of fate. Don't look at me like that, I reject destiny, but accept fate. Fate you see, is but a path that we travel in our lives. In the end, we are nothing more than pawns, puppets, marionettes, forced to dance to the tunes of those who pull the strings.

"Those with power, will, ambition, knowledge and the understanding of this primordial truth can use this for their own purposes. They can become more powerful, through manipulation, through lies, through the exploitation of those around them. This is the truth that my patron showed to me. It was the greatest gift anyone could have given me. It showed me that I too could become a puppeteer, that I too could control the fates of those around me."

"For what purpose?" Aang growled.

The nine mouths of the Master of the Ever Changing Plot, all spoke as one, his words echoed out in a chorus of madness. "For the only purpose that power has. To acquire more. To rise above our stations, to pluck at the strings of these puppets, and have them dance to our tunes. You are powerful Avatar Aang, you have the ability to change fates and manipulate these pawns. You should know this truth Aang, and you should embrace it."

The Master of the Ever Changing Plot gestured at the massive map. "Make your move Avatar Aang. Make your choice. Move these pawns, move these puppets to where ever you desire, see the effect that we can have on the world as we change it and bend to our will and ambitions."

Aang stared at the map. What was he supposed to do? He had a feeling that this was another test. This world seemed to be made of nothing but riddles, tests, and illusions. Was this another one, or was he just being paranoid?

He moved around the map, examining each pawn. Who to move? How was he supposed to decided? He didn't know the rules to the game; he didn't know how to win, he didn't know how to lose. What was he supposed to do?

"Tick-tock, tick-tock, Avatar Aang." The nine mouths of the Master of the Ever Changing Plot clicked impatiently "make your move."

Aang shot the Master of the Ever Changing Plot a glare, but returned to his circling. He was thinking, analyzing, looking at the problem from multiple angles.

_What is the most powerful piece in the game?_

Was this an answer? Had the Master of the Ever Changing Plot been referring not just to regicide? Could the Master of the Ever Changing Plot have been referring to any game?

The more Aang thought, the more it made sense. This whole place was a riddle, a nest of lies. He had been so focused on beating the Master of the Ever Changing Plot, so taken in by the illusions, the lies that, he had lost focus.

_What is the most powerful piece in the game?_

"The player..." Aang whispered to himself. He looked up at the Master of the Ever Changing Plot. "I've made my decision."

The Master of the Ever Changing Plot's eyebrow rose over his offset eye, as his nine mouths turned up into a grin.

"I refuse to play."

The nine mouths frowned. "What?"

Aang kept his gaze on the Master of the Ever Changing Plot. "I said I refuse to play. I refuse to continue to be manipulated, to be lied to. Everything you've said has been a lie, a ploy to make me become like you. I refuse.

"I am the Avatar, It is my duty to keep the world in balance. Not to seek out power, not to rule over others. I guide, I teach, I offer my help when asked for, or when it is needed. That is my duty."

Aang walked onto the map, and plucked the pawn with the arrow from where it rested. "You asked me what is the most powerful piece in the game. The most powerful piece is the player himself. Without the player, there is no game."

He crushed the pawn in his hand. "I am not a pawn. I am not a puppet. We are done here, Sokka, Master of the Ever Changing Plot. Thank you for the lesson, and thank you for reminding me of the lies that we tell."

Aang bowed and turned from the Master of the Ever Changing Plot. Behind him, Aang discovered that a massive door had materialized, with a gentle push, the great door swung open, and Aang vanished from the realm of the Master of the Ever Changing Plot.

The Master of the Ever Changing Plot stood alone in his library.

"Foolish, naive." He spat out bitterly from his nine mouths as he returned to his desk and chair.

The Master of the Ever Changing Plot laughed as he conjured a cup of wine from the thin air, and toasted the spot where Aang had vanished. "Good luck to you Avatar Aang. The worst has yet to come."

The Master of the Ever Changing Plot closed his fist, and opened it. The pawn with the arrow on its head sat on his hand. Chuckling he placed on the table almost reverently.

"The worst has yet to come."

* * *

So Sokka it looks like has given himself over to the Great Conspirator and the Master of Fate! Like Toph, Sokka was fairly easy. Although he does have a fierce martial pride, and a dream of becoming a great warrior and chief; he is the Gaang's idea guy. He's the man with the plan and on several occasions shown himself to be quite the manipulator, i.e.: with the pirates, the Boiling Rock.

This is by far the longest chapter that I have ever written. ***NINE******* thousand words. Unfortunately do not expect my other chapters to reach that many, but who knows I might surprise myself.

Many of you are probably wondering why I gave Sokka magical powers, despite the fact in the show he is the token normal. Well I figured that Tzeentch would grant him these as rewards for his service.

Alright now for some answers about the visions, the first three are simple enough they are of the future, set during and some years before the Legend of Korra. The fourth is from AU fanfic titled Music by Grasspaw on , one that I highly recommend!

The fifth is an idea that came to me just a little while ago. It is Avatar the Last Airbender done in Medieval Europe. I imagined that the Water Tribes would be Vikings, (Suki I thought would be cool as a Valkyrie) the Fire Nation would be England locked in a hundred years war (see what I did there!? I'm so AWESOME!) with the Earth Kingdom who would be the French. I based the Air Nomads on the culture of Medieval Jews, (a spiritual people, with dietary restrictions who unfortunately are targeted by almost everyone else.)

The sixth vision is based off another AU fanfic, titled Tide and Time, by Rebecca Hb, in which the Water Tribes started the war. Again I highly recommend this one-shot! The seventh is another idea of an AU where Azula carries out a successful coup and leads an attack on Republic City, in order to reclaim the Fire Nations lost colonies.

The eighth is based off the game Warmachine, which centres around people who use magic to command giant semi-sentient, steam powered robots, (Toph in this case) to fight wars against each other. It uses a lot of Steam-punk tech, along with fantasy magic.

So, two down, two to go. Who's next? Guesses? Bets?


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